Penitence: Egotism within Altruism
by KitsuneCagalli
Summary: Even though it's supposed to be penitence, it's not. It borders on egotistic aspiration. She shouldn't do it, but what prevents a bleeding heart is what she desires. She's not looking to solve her problems, just escape them. Crack pairing one shot - GrahamxSumeragi. Angst.


Warning: crack pairing abound. I just wanted to write something random. I got thinking about the four year time skip for Sumeragi and why she would stay so willingly with Billy when she easily could have run away to a place no one could find her. (She is a tactical forecaster after all. She'd probably seen the potential of CB finding her miles away.) So here's a reason. It'd also explain our favorite Virgo's strange depression and donning of the mask in season 2 ;D (it totally could be her disappearance xD). I warned you this was a crack pairing.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam OO, and for most of you into normal canon, that's probably a good thing xD.

* * *

><p><strong>Penitence: Egotism within Altruism<strong>

_By: KitsuneCagalli  
><em>

My heart hurts every time I see his jovial expression. When will he realize this is all a farce? That I stopped loving him since I ended my life by joining a terrorist organization? I plaster on the upturn of my lips, but if he knew me, _really_ knew me, the shallow eyes would have given it away.

A peck on the lips, a brush of hands and he's gone.

I'm now as alone as I feel, but the damage has already been dealt. It's easier actually being alone than having the emptiness swallow me whole on the inside while I play happy sunshine to the outside world he's created for us. Collapsing to the floor, I begin the routine.

I lay on my back aimlessly watching the popcorn tiles of the apartment's ceiling play tricks with my vision, forming patterns and shapes that don't exist. I used to use my hand to trace out the forms, but I've grown too tired for those silly practices. My hand is stationary, lying beside my limp body.

Then I force my weary self to rise, use the muscles that deteriorate with the laziness, and travel to the kitchen where my breakfast waits. Two oblong pills in a yellowed color and a bottle of Grey Goose. It's my new favorite, and normally I keep it better hidden behind the broken mirror cabinet where I once punched a hole through during a rage session. He doesn't look there because he doesn't know I wrecked it, so my luck holds until the day fate decides to expose my secret.

The pills are for my back pain, an injury from one of my many alcoholic 'accidents'.

Then I settle on the couch with my favorite glass, my bottle, and the afternoon Soaps that keep my brain from intelligent functioning. It's a long time in my hapless state, but the time flies quickly when I actually look to the digital clock that reads 3:35.

Ten minutes.

I journey to my room, the only place I can keep clean for habitual purposes, where I shimmy under the bed and pull out the box I store in between the bedding boards. It's to keep him from noticing my stash - because there would be a lot of awkward questions even if he wouldn't actually piece together the meaning behind it. I scoot out and search through my treasure chest, pulling out my blue set. It's been a favored selection.

I change into the blue set and redress. It's 3:42, I have a few minutes. I take the opportunity to fix myself because I actually care. It's the only time during certain days when my appearance means something and I relish in that small piece of joy.

3:45. Ding dong. Perfect timing.

I hurry to the door, throwing it open in my haste but enjoying the fluttering butterflies suddenly taking residence in my stomach. The flash of blonde from the sun's rays enhances what I know already. He's so handsome, even when he's worn out. I let my finger trace his scar with love, knowing it makes him feel comfortable. It's just another factor of his appeal.

It doesn't take long, we've both decided that pleasantries and words could be saved for later if they were necessary at all. Shutting the door behind him, he lifts me into his seasoned grasp and methodically slinks into my bedroom. Setting me down, he doesn't bother with protocol as my first layer is stripped away amidst a flurry of well placed touches and kisses. I assist with my own pleasures as I transform his uniformed state into a bare show.

"Blue? My favorite color."

He mumbles through teeth on my shoulder, caressing my hips in an all too familiar manner. I let my body speak for itself by sliding my leg up his, demonstrating the profound skill trained for his pleasure. He edges his callused hands to my back ties, individually undoing the lacing in an attempt for suspense.

It works.

I let my hand travel around his forbidden fruit, caressing his exposed length for fun, just to hear him moan. It's riveting. To hold such power over an impressive man like him is more exhilarating than sky diving. And it does the job as the top comes undone and my frilled panties with it.

Pinning me to the bed, he takes no prisoners as he nips my neck, but again trying to control the animal within that rages from my enticement. I encourage him with a girlish whimper, knowing full well he won't deny me my just desserts. After all, since the start we agreed that it's for our own selfish needs that both parties happily oblige. My leg is propped on his muscular shoulder while the second wraps around his midsection.

The initial thrust always surprises me, as if my body desires the shock of being tightly coiled about his frame. But I adjust as easily as water flows, and we start the dance of his pushes and my pulls. The in-out ramming is always rough, we both like it that way, and perhaps it's a means of redemption on our parts. As if it should pain us by being intense, but in reality fuels the craving and eroticism.

I can't help but want him.

The feeling swells inside my lower belly, a pulsing that radiates up the spine and tingles down to the toes; he seems just as lost in the sensation as his half lidded eyes shine with delight, causing the steady pounding to grow more fevered as he grips my hips. The build up comes fast, but I hold onto it while demanding his release, unwilling to rest until we both exude that scream of utter pleasure in a unified tone. It's not long till he says so and when it comes, so do we.

Exhausted, he collapses onto me when I return my appendage to normal position and I hold his panting form to my chest. He's still inside me, but I love the feeling of holding supremacy over him so I allow it to remain there, under my whim. It's like this until our bodies settle and I need to relieve myself.

When we reunite dressed and controlled, it's all soft smiles and sweet touches. I let him hold me as if I were his and he mine, and we make the trip to the kitchen to indulge in the alcohol. I start dinner, knowing that he is famished from working before his visit here, but get little done with his lips on my body and his games of togetherness. Tonight's decision is he'll surprise _him_ with his presence for a dinner together. I feel uneasy with that idea, but I trust his judgment. After finally making a stir fry while we discussed haphazard topics, I happen to glance at the clock.

7:23. I can hear the door knob rattle with the turn.

He releases my form and side saddles one of the kitchen chairs as we both listen to heavy footsteps penetrate the hall while our attempts at indifference are accompanied by pointless chatter. He enters the kitchen with a fatigued expression until his eyes see us.

"Graham! How lovely of you to drop by! I was just thinking about how I don't get to see you too often anymore with your promotion and being so busy lately." He rushes over to pat his back mightily, and then turns to me with a genuine smile. "Thanks for making dinner, you didn't have to Leesa."

I can only ruefully respond. I don't cook. I usually get drunk.

We settle down together, the three of us, for a casual meal. They speak about so many things that I tune out the noise. He gets himself drunk to the point where he's falling out of his chair. Graham catches him in a show of trained reflexes and we carefully load him onto the couch in the living room.

It's all according to plan.

We head back to the bedroom, both stripping along the way to allow for less wasted time, and arrive at the bed for a second time that day. We make sure to be cautious, locking the door and shoving my towel under the door frame. When we fall to the bed this time, I'm on top and riding him for all his worth. We take longer this occasion, allowing for greater pleasure and a decrease of noise. We dare not risk getting caught so obviously.

He greatly enjoys his chance to relax, fondling my breasts and stroking my backside while I take this opportunity to work my core muscles. I make it a habit of keeping in shape this way because very little motivates me outside of his presence. The night draws on with mews and groans when we finally climax together, though hushed and with more intimacy.

I lay on his chest watching the tree leaves' shadows play on the walls. I feel utterly comfortable like this, and I nearly cry when I remember that this will only last until morning. Graham has to return to the real world and I have to face Billy's unrequited affections repeatedly until I next see my blonde lover. I hug his body tighter to mine, and he returns the gesture silently.

He's used to my coping strategies. He shares them.

When I wake to his cooing, the smile on my face explodes. He reads my content features and rewards me with a kiss. We're up and ready even before Billy rouses. I stand by the door to escort him out with a sad expression; he refused breakfast because he was late. The blonde always pampered me with his fondness even when it could get him in trouble.

Trouble, hah. We were already miles high in trouble.

With a last longing look, he leaves my residence to return to his demanding career while I prepare myself for the imminent truth. Billy will get up very soon, hung over in a strange role reversal. I don't want to deal with it so I scoop up the half finished whiskey and gin bottles to indulge myself. By the time I've finished the alcohol, he's coherent and crouched at my level on the floor. He apologizes for losing himself in front of me and his best friend, but I take no heed. I'm already waiting.

It's a slow touch, up my arm and following the curve of my neck until his hand cups my face. He pulls me in for a kiss, to which I barely respond. Being drunk always gave me an excuse for not responding to his advances, and as I follow the motions of his horniness, I feel nothing but emptiness at this violation.

But I bear it.

I owe him this much for his kindness, so I accept his love with a grain of salt. I give him what he wants through the pain that screams at me. It's my punishment, my retribution; I shouldn't be sleeping with his best friend. He took me in and harbors me safely through my drunkenness and my depression. And his efforts should be rewarded, however hollow. Because I shouldn't be fucking his _best friend_. Not even if I love Graham. Not even if Graham would willingly take me as his own for love, for marriage, for the future.

Billy doesn't deserve to be part of my tarnished reputation.

And neither Graham nor I can bring such a monstrosity upon him. So I lay there underneath him on the living room floor and let him do what he wants with me; I'll pretend to be his perfect little girlfriend while running away from my problems. But I also will use Graham for my own tiny piece of happiness, however willingly it is given. I'm selfish that way.

I'm selfish that way.

_~Fin~_


End file.
